Chapter One: Something about Him
I hadn't picked up a hitchhiker since I was in my twenties, but there was something about the young man standing at the entrance to the Adirondack Northway that made me stop. The boy looked so young and innocent that I was afraid for his safety, and these days who knows what might happen to a kid who looked so timid and frail.
He had been holding a cardboard sign with bold black lettering that said PLATTSBURGH, NY and when he saw that I had stopped, he made a mad dash for my car, his backpack swinging wildly beside him as he ran.
"Oh man, thanks!" he said as he climbed in the front seat. "It's hotter than hell out there."
I could feel the heat from his body as he sat beside me, the result of the 90 degree temperature outside, which was probably made even more oppressive my the concrete all around him as he had stood waiting for a ride.
"Over an hour," my passenger explained. "Usually I get picked up pretty quick but today - I dunno."
"Well, I can take you all the way to where you're going, because I'm going beyond Plattsburgh."
"Awesome man," the kid chirped excitedly. "I can give you some gas money."
"That's okay," I told him. "I'm glad to have the company."
"My name is Paul," he said by way of introduction, and over the course of the next 100 miles or so we managed to find out a lot about each other.
Being over 30 years his senior, I thought at first that we would have little in common, but that wasn't the case, and the conversation flowed nicely.
Paul was 19, and was going to be a sophomore at the State University at Plattsburgh. He played soccer, which was something I had also done in my youth. Paul was wearing cut off jeans, and I could see the powerful calf muscles that stood out on his otherwise slender frame.
I also noticed, and tried to ignore, the fine dusting of golden hairs that lined the insides of those muscular calves as well, but ignoring was easier said than done. Paul might have noticed my occasional glances in that direction, but if he did he didn't let on that he had.
He reminded me so much of myself when I was his age, so trusting and naive, and blessed with a baby face that made him look younger than his 19 years. I suspected that he would face many of the same things I had, and could only hope that he managed to get through them as well as I had.
At some point the subject of girls came up, and that seemed to silence Paul for a bit. I didn't press the subject, and after a few more miles he cleared his throat to speak.
"When you picked me up - don't get mad or anything - but I thought you might be gay," Paul said finally. "Then I saw your wedding ring."
"Oh, yes, I've been married for over 20 years," I explained. "Why?"
"Well, if you were - I mean - that would be okay," he said, brushing his light brown hair from the front of his face. "I get hit on a lot by gay men."
"I can understand that," I said. "You look quite like I did at your age," I told him. "I looked very young and was very naive - much more so that you seem to be. I wasn't nearly as confident as you are. I was more a wallflower. Very confused about myself."
"You don't seem to be that way now."
"No, I overcame that," I said. "As a matter of fact, I was hitchhiking to college myself when a very kind and understanding elderly man gave me a lift, and that man changed my life forever."
"How so?"
"Well, I was a pretty messed up kid. I had a lot of issues regarding my body, and he showed me that a lot of things that you think are important really aren't. He drove me hundreds of miles out of his way, let me stay in his motel room and gave me a bus ticket for the rest of my trip."
"That was cool of him," Paul said. "Was he gay?"
"Yes."
"Oh," Paul said. "Did he..."
"Yes."
There was a silence of a mile or so, and wanting to set Paul's mind at ease, I spoke again.
"Say, I didn't tell you that story to freak you out. I'm not going to seduce you like he did me," I said.
"Oh," Paul said with a sigh, and after another pregnant pause, added, "Too bad."
...
Chapter Two: Drive.
I somehow managed to keep the car on the road after Paul said that, but it was obvious that he had noticed my reaction to his comment.
"Sorry," Paul said. "Guess I was the one freaking you out."
"No, that's alright," I assured him.
"Kind of got a thing for older men," Paul told me.
"I did too at your age," I said.
"How old are you, Tim?" Paul asked. "Forty?"
"I wish," I said. "I'm 53."